1 


ce 

L51I 


w 


STEPHEN  Bo  WEEKS 

CLASS  OF  1886;  PH.D.  THE  JOHNS  HOPKINS  UNIVERSnT 

OF  TME 

UNIVIEIRSimY  OF  NdDlOT  CMIDIIMA 
fflE  WEEKS  CdDLlLECTlKDN 

OF 

CAROLIMANA 


L51IW 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00032695922 

FOR  USE  ONLY  IN 
THE  NORTH  CAROLINA  COLLECTION 
THIS  TITLE  HAS  BEEN  rv'.iCroriLMED 


This  BOOK  may  be  kept ,  out    TWO 
WEJSKS  QNLY,  nnd  is  subject  to  a  fin? 
of  FIV&r-CENTS  a  day  thereafter..    It  was 


take^HT'out  on  the  day  indicated  below 


^/^■,  y'Ay/^- 


In   ^emoriam 


M.  x«a.  X. 


SERVICES 


HELD    IN   THE 


Chapel  of  Rest,  Yadkin  Valley,  N.  C. 


AT   THE   FUNERAL  OF  THE   LATE 


CAPT.  WALTER  WAIGHTSTILL  LENOIR 


WITH   THE 


Sermon 


BY 


THE   REV.  JAMES  A.  WESTON 


AND 


A    SKETCH    OF    THE    LIFE    OF    THE    DECEASED 


NEW  YORK 
E.    &    J.    B.    YOUNG    &    CO. 

COOPER  UNION,  FOURTH  AVENUE 
1890 


/^ 


'^ 


0^ 


The  funeral  services  of  the  late  Captain  Walter  W. 
Lenoir  were  held  in  the  Chapel  of  Rest,  at  eleven 
o'clock,  July  28,  1890.  The  solemn  Burial  Service 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  was  read  by  the 
Rev.  James  A.  Weston,  who  also  preached  the  Me- 
morial Sermon.  The  Body  was  reverently  laid  to 
rest  in  the  Lenoir  Family  Cemetery,  at  Fort  Defi- 
ance, by  the  side  of  his  wife  and  child. 


The  beautiful  hymn,  "Abide  with  me,  fast  falls 
the  even-tide,"  was  sung  at  the  beginning  of  the 
service.  At  the  close,  as  the  large  congregation 
slowly  and  sadly  walked  up  the  aisle  to  take  a  last 
look  at  the  peaceful  face  of  their  departed  friend, 
the  following  hymn  was  sung  as  a  solo  : 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

*'  Come  unto  me  and  rest ; 
Lay  down,  thou  weary  one,  lay  down 

Thy  head  upon  my  breast  :  " 
I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 

Weary,  and  worn,  and  sad ; 
I  found  in  Him  a  resting-place, 

And  He  has  made  me  glad. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

"  Behold  !  I  freely  give 
The  living  water,  thirsty  one 

Stoop  down,  and  drink,  and  live  :  " 
I  came  to  Jesus,  and  I  drank 

Of  that  life-giving  stream  ; 
My  thirst  was  quenched,  my  soul  revived, 

And  now  I  live  in  Him. 


SERMON. 


"  For  he  was  a  good  man." — Acts  xi.  24. 

ON  last  Easter  Day,  in  this  beautiful, 
hallowed  Chapel  of  Rest,  I  adminis- 
tered the  Sacrament  of  Baptism  to  Walter 
Waightstill  Lenoir.  It  was  an  impressive 
and  touching  service.  I  can  never  forget  it. 
I  feel  sure  that  not  one  of  the  large  congre- 
gation then  present  can  ever  forget  it.  There 
were  few  unmoistened  eyes,  and  most  of  the 
congregation  were  deeply  affected  as  the  Can- 
didate solemnly  dedicated  himself  in  Holy 
Baptism  to  the  service  of  Almighty  God. 
Every  one  felt  that  this  was  no  formal,  cere- 
monious act,  but  that  the  man  who  thus  stood 
up  and  confessed  God  before  men,  and  took 
upon  him  the  highest  of  all  possible  obliga- 
tions, was  fully  resolved,  the  Lord  being  his 

5 


Memorial  Sermon, 

Helper,  *'  obediently  to  keep  God's  Holy 
Will  and  Commandments,  and  to  walk  in  the 
same  all  the  days  of  his  life — to  continue 
Christ's  faithful  soldier  and  servant  unto  his 
life's  end."  It  was  a  spontaneous,  a  hearty, 
a  grand  tribute  to  the  character  of  the  man. 
He  had  lived  among  this  people  the  greater 
part  of  his  life  and  they  knew  him.  They 
knew  that  he  was  a  true  man — true  in  all  the 
relations  of  life,  true  in  every  profession  that 
he  made,  true  in  word  and  in  deed,  in  mind 
and  in  heart — honest,  manly,  generous,  mer- 
ciful, humble.  They  loved  him.  They  hon- 
ored him.  They  trusted  him.  And,  my  dear 
friends,  no  one  can  desire  a  richer  reward 
than  this,  a  better  memorial,  a  greater  mon- 
ument. Oh,  I  tell  you  here  to-day  that  I 
would  rather  have  the  love  and  confidence  of 
my  people,  the  people  among  whom  I  live 
and  labor — not  the  rich,  the  great,  the  influ- 
ential merely,  but  the  plainest,  the  poorest, 
the  vilest,  the  lowest — I  would  rather  have 
the  love,  and  confidence,  and  devotion  of  all 
my  people,  than  to  possess  all  the  silver,  and 


Memorial  Sermon, 

gold,  and  jewels    of  earth,  or  to  wear  the 
crown  of  the  richest,  mightiest  monarch  that 
ever  lived.       Such    heart-treasure   is  worth 
them  all,  a  million  times  over.     For  crowns, 
and  kingdoms,  and  riches  perish.     They  are 
of  the  earth,  earthy.     They  '*  pass   away." 
But  character,  a  good  name,  loving,  virtuous 
deeds  ;  these  do  not  pass  away.     Truth  lasts. 
It  is  like  the  little  seed  which  is  sown  into  the 
earth,  and  springs    up,  and  multiplies  itself 
from  year  to  year,  and  from  century  to  cen- 
tury, until  it  becomes  lost  in  the  vastness  of  nu- 
merical computation.     The  influence  of  a  just, 
and  pure,  and  gentle,  and  holy  life  dies  not 
here  nor  hereafter.    It  goes  on,  and  on,  and 
on,  widening,  deepening,  strengthening,  hon- 
oring God  and  blessing  mankind,  long,  long 
after  we  have  gone  the  way  of  all  the  earth 
— and  it  will  ultimately,  by  God's  blessing, 
form  a  part  of  our    ever-growing,  immortal 
life.     It   becomes    a   part   of  Eternity  itself. 
Not  here   in   all  its  beauty  and  power  will 
the   sweet,  noble,  Christ-like  life,  now  ended 
among  men,  be  unfolded  to  our  view.    Wher- 

7 


Memorial  Sermon. 

ever  our  friend  was  known,  wherever  his 
7ianie  was  known,  his  character  was  held  in 
the  highest,  the  most  reverent  estimation. 
His  word  was  his  bond.  It  was  the  syno- 
nym of  sincerity,  and  candor,  and  faith. 
One  of  his  old  friends — than  whom  I  never 
knew  a  more  honorable,  a  more  estimable 
man — said  to  me  with  deep  emotion  the  day 
after  his  death,  "  Oh,  I  would  have  trusted 
him  anywhere,  at  any  time,  under  all  circum- 
stances to  the  ends  of  the  earth."  It  is  the 
universal  verdict. 

None  knew  him  but  to  love  him 
None  named  him  but  to  praise. 

Such  a  testimonial  is  above  all  price.  When 
such  a  man  dies  the  people  mourn.  It  is 
a  public  calamity.  The  days  are  full  of 
evil.  The  public  conscience  is  fearfully  de- 
bauched. Corruption  stalks,  brazen-faced  in 
high  places  and  in  low.  Men  are  bought 
and  sold  like  sheep  in  the  shambles.  Suc- 
cess is  openly,  shamelessly  proclaimed  as  the 

only  standard  of  right.     License  is  Freedom. 

8 


Memorial  Sermon, 

Lawlessness  is  Law.  Society,  for  the  most 
part,  is  honeycombed  with  false  ideas  of 
morals  and  religion.  Vice,  richly  gilded, 
boldly  usurps  the  throne  of  virtue.  And 
Home,  the  first  temple  of  God,  sacredest 
and  dearest  of  places,  the  fountain  of  life 
and  liberty,  of  all  right  thinking  and  right 
living,  is  desecrated,  and  its  foundations, 
threatened  by  the  demon  of  so-called  Prog- 
ress and  Reform.  We  need  men  like  Cap- 
tain Lenoir — God  only  knows  how  sorely 
we  need  them — to  stay  these  mad  waves  of 
intemperance  and  selfishness  in  their  hy- 
dra-headed forms,  to  give  to  public  life,  to 
social  life,  to  family  life,  a  purer,  a  soberer, 
a  softer,  a  more  healthful  tone. 

Captain  Lenoir  was  a  man  of  the  loftiest 
patriotism.  He  loved  his  country  and  his 
people  with  boundless  devotion.  There 
was  no  period  of  his  life  when  he  would  not 
most  cheerfully  have  made  any  sacrifice, 
however  great,  even  to  the  laying  down  of 
his  life,  in  defence  of  their  sacred,  their  in- 
alienable, their    Heaven-born  rights.       Few 

9 


Memorial  Sermon. 

persons,  beyond  the  circle  of  those  who 
knew  him  well,  would  have  supposed  that 
this  quiet,  modest,  unassuming  man  was  cast 
in  a  heroic  mould.  And  yet  no  man  had 
more  firmness  or  more  courage  —  none 
could  be  more  intrepid  and  daring  when 
the  occasion  demanded  it.  War  hardens 
most  men's  hearts.     It  softened  his. 

The  bravest  are  the  tenderest, 
The  loving  are  the  daring. 

He  was  a  man  of  large  public  spirit.  He 
took  the  deepest  interest  in  the  social,  in- 
dustrial, and  economic  questions  of  the  day. 
The  past  was  dear — inexpressibly  dear  to 
him — but  he  fully  realized  the  fact  that  his 
duty  to  the  living  was  paramount  to  every 
other  consideration,  and  he  nobly,  unsel- 
fishly addressed  himself  to  the  task  of  bet- 
tering the  condition  of  those  amonor  whom 
he  lived,  of  rehabilitating,  as  best  he  could, 
their  fallen  fortunes,  and  lifting  them  up  to  a 
more  hopeful,  and  a  happier  life.  Whatever 
measures,   public  or  private,  tended  in  any 


lO 


Memorial  Sermon, 

way  to  the  good  of  his  people  were  sure  to 
have  his  hearty,  persevering,  efficient  sup- 
port. Broad,  cultured,  clear-headed,  practical, 
liberal,  many  sided,  conservative  in  thought 
and  feeling,  fully  sympathizing  with  all  that 
was  best  in  the  progressive  spirit  of  the  age, 
no  man  was  more  useful  to  the  community  in 
which  he  lived,  or  to  the  people  generally 
among  whom  Providence  had  cast  his  lot. 

But  it  was  in  his   simple,   unostentatious 
private  life  that  his  virtues  were  most  con- 
spicuous, his  charities  the  sweetest,  his  char- 
acter the  loveliest,  his  influence  the  greatest. 
Ah,  no  one  but  our  Heavenly  Father  knows 
the   good   that   that   man  has   done.      The 
poor,  the  sick,  the  suffering,  the  needy,  the 
little  ones  of  earth  will  rise  up  at  the  last 
Day,  and  call  him  blessed.     ''  In  the  name 
of  Heaven,"    said    one    of    his    neighbors, 
'*  what  will  the  poor  people  do  now  ?     No 
one  can  take  his  place."     He  fed  the  hun- 
gry, he  clothed  the  naked,  he  comforted  the 
sorrowing  and  desolate.     The  ''  blessing  of 
him  that  was  ready  to  perish  "   came  upon 


II 


Memorial  Sermon. 

him,  and  he  '*  caused  the  widow's  heart  to 
sing  for  joy."  He  was  ''  eyes  to  the  blind, 
feet  to  the  lame,  a  father  to  the  poor,"  a 
helper  of  the  helpless  :  every  form  of  adver- 
sity found  in  him  a  sympathizing  and  active 
friend.  And  the  very  manner  in  which  he 
performed  these  kind  offices  gave  a  double 
charm  and  value  to  all  that  he  said  and  did. 
It  was  worth  as  much  as,  or  more  than,  the 
benefactions  themselves.  A  cold,  formal, 
unfeeling  charity  may  be,  and  often  is,  a 
curse,  instead  of  a  blessing.  You  may  give 
a  pair  of  shoes  to  a  poor  boy  with  naked, 
bleeding  feet,  but  the  manner  of  your  giving 
may  be  such  as  to  cause  him  indignantly  to 
throw  them  away,  and  to  walk  on  in  pain 
and  in  blood.  Captain  Lenoir's  manner  was 
so  sympathetic,  so  unselfish,  so  affectionate, 
so  full  of  the  Christ-like  spirit,  that  he 
seemed  to  be  the  one  upon  whom  the  char- 
ity was  bestowed  —  the  recipient  of  his 
own  gifts.  Love  must  go  with  your  gifts. 
Love  begets  love.  Love  is  omnipotent. 
A  little  with   love    is   infinitely  better  than 

12 


Memorial  Sermon, 

much  without  love.  Our  dear  brother 
knew,  as  few  know,  the  meaning  of  the 
Master's  words,  *'  It  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive."  This  is  true  Humility — 
the  crowning  grace  of  the  Higher  Life. 
*'  Whosoever  shall  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister.  And  whosoever  will 
be  chief  among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant. 
Even  as  the  Son  of  Man  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister."  Captain 
Lenoir  was  never  happier  than  when  minis- 
terine  to  the  wants  of  others.  Sir  William 
Jones  has  beautifully  said  :  '*  If  I  am  asked 
who  is  the  greatest  man,  I  answer,  the  best ; 
and  if  I  am  required  to  say  who  is  the  best, 
I  answer,  he  that  has  deserved  most  of  his 
fellow-creatures."  How  true.  Who  does 
not  feel  that  Walter  Waightstill  Lenoir  was 
a  great  man  ?  In  the  light  of  such  a  life 
and  character,  we  have  the  best  commen- 
tary upon  those  words  of  Holy  Scripture, 
*'  Then  shall  the  King  say  unto  them  on  his 
right  hand,  '  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from 

13 


Memorial  Sennon. 

the  foundation  of  the  world :  for  I  was  an 
hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat:  I  was 
thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink :  I  was  a 
stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  :  naked,  and  ye 
clothed  me :  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me  : 
I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me.' 
Then  shall  the  righteous  answer  him,  say- 
ing, '  Lord,  when  saw  we  thee  an  hungered, 
and  fed  thee  ?  or  thirsty,  and  gave  thee 
drink  ?  When  saw  we  thee  a  stranger,  and 
took  thee  in  ?  or  naked,  and  clothed  thee  ? 
Or  when  saw  we  thee  sick,  or  in  prison,  and 
came  unto  thee  ?  '  And  the  King  shall  an- 
swer and  say  unto  them,  '  Verily  I  say  unto 
you.  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  me/  " 

Dear  brethren  and  friends,  let  us  try  at 
all  times  to  recognize,  as  our  dear  brother 
recognized — not  theoretically,  but  practically 
— the  great  truth  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God, 
and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  God  is  our 
Father,  We  are  all  brethren.  Let  us  live 
as   brethren — eye    to    eye,    hand    to   hand, 

14 


Memorial  Sermon. 

heart  to  heart.  This  is  Christianity.  Let 
us  build  upon  this  Rock,  and  the  country  is 
safe,  the  people  are  safe,  your  souls  are  safe. 
All  social  questions  will  readily,  naturally, 
adjust  themselves — ^just  as  surely  as  water 
will  seek  its  level.  Objections  arising  from 
this  source  are  the  unfailing  refuge  of  sel- 
fishness and  treason  —  treason  to  the  King 
of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords  —  treason  to 
the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  who  went  about 
doing  good  to  the  souls  and  bodies  of  men. 
Let  us  build  upon  this  Rock,  and  an  era 
of  unexampled  peace,  and  prosperity,  and 
happiness  will  dawn  upon  us.  Nihilism, 
and  Socialism,  and  Communism,  and  kindred 
evils,  will  flee  away,  because  they  cannot 
stand  before  this  unselfish,  christian  conse- 
cration and  sacrifice.  There  will  be  less 
poverty,  and  sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  pain, 
and  suffering,  in  this  *'  troublesome  world  " 
— fewer  anxieties,  and  cares,  and  tears,  and 
burdens  of  every  kind.  There  will  be  so 
many  light  hearts,  and  bright  eyes,  and  cheer- 
ful faces,  and  erect  forms,  and  elastic  steps — 

15 


Memorial  Sermon, 

so  many  happy  men  and  happier  women: 
Heaven  upon  Earth.  Captain  Lenoir  was 
for  many  years  the  child  of  affliction  and  sor- 
row. We  cannot  tell  how  much  he  suffered. 
Every  heart  knows  its  own  bitterness,  and 
there  were  times  when  his  cup  seemed  to  be 
almost  full.  But  he  was  entirely  resigned  to 
the  will  of  God.  Those  who  were  with  him 
most  alone  know  with  what  courage,  and 
patience,  and  cheerfulness,  and  fortitude  he 
bore  whatever  his  Heavenly  Father  was 
pleased  to  send  upon  him. 

A  marked  trait  of  our  friend's  character 
was  his  love  of  kindred.  His  affection  for 
them  was  simply  beautiful  beyond  descrip- 
tion. It  was  holy.  We  cannot  enter  into 
this  inner  Sanctuary.    We  draw  the  veil  here. 

That  our  Brother  had  faults,  that  he  com- 
mitted errors,  no  one  was  so  ready  to  ac- 
knowledge as  himself — no  one  so  deeply  de- 
plored them.  But  of  him  we  may  truly  say 
in  the  language  of  one  who  loved  every- 
body, and  whom  everybody  loved. 

Even  his  failings  leaned  to  Virtue's  side. 
i6 


Memorial  Sermon, 

As  the  end  drew  near,  he  grew,  day  by 
day,  riper  and  riper  for  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  A  large  portion  of  the  Church's 
daily  services  was  read  to  him  every  morn- 
ing and  evening,  and  afforded  him  unspeak- 
able comfort.  It  was  his  daily  bread — his 
manna  from  Heaven.  His  Bible  was  con- 
stantly by  his  side,  and  his  explanations  and 
expositions  of  striking  and  difficult  portions 
of  Holy  Writ  were  a  perfect  revelation  to 
those  who  ministered  to  him.  Passages 
of  Scripture  which  seemed  to  have  no  spe- 
cial meaning  grew  radiant  with  beauty  and 
power,  as  he  interpreted  them.  *'  The  en- 
trance of  thy  Word,"  says  the  Psalmist, 
'*  giveth  light.  It  giveth  understanding  to 
the  simple."  Captain  Lenoir  was  a  man  of 
large  and  varied  attainments,  and  had  for 
many  years  been  a  diligent  student  of  the 
Bible,  but  may  we  not  believe  that  God's 
Word,  now  entering  deeply  into  his  soul, 
kneelinof  on  the  border-land  between  Earth 
and  Heaven,  gave  him  abundant  light,  and 
enabled  him  to    communicate  this  light   to 

17 


Memorial  Sermon. 

others  ?  I  cannot  doubt  it.  A  short  time  be- 
fore the  final  stroke,  he  wished  to  be  alone, 
like  Jacob  at  the  ford  of  Jabbok,  to  commune 
with  his  God,  and  to  plead  for  special  grace 
and  strength  for  the  approaching  trial.  Re- 
ligion is  a  sacred  thing,  and  it  is  never  so  real 
as  when  we  wish  to  be  alone  with  God,  when 
no  eye  but  His  can  see  us,  no  ear  but  His 
can  hear  us.  Our  affections  in  social,  every- 
day life,  are  purest,  and  sweetest,  and  strong- 
est when  the  lips  are  silent — when  the  heart 
alone  speaks.  Words  are  so  cheap,  so  cheap. 
It  is  the  holiest  of  emotions — this  desire  to 
be  alone  with  God.  Our  dear  Lord,  standing 
in  the  shadow  of  that  Awful  Death,  wished 
to  be  alone  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane. 

And  thus  our  dear  friend  and  brother,  in 
sweetest,  closest  communion  with  his  Lord 
and  Saviour,  passed  peacefully  away  to  that 
''  rest  that  remaineth  to  the  people  of  God." 

God's  finger  touched  him,  and  he  slept. 

We  shall  no  more  look  upon  that  kindly 

face,  so  calm,  so  peaceful,  so  loving,  even  in 

i8 


Memorial  Sermon. 

death.  His  Works  follow  him.  His  re- 
ward is  sure.  ''  For  he  was  a  good  man." 
Let  the  record  stand  thus.  Let  it  go  down 
from  generation  to  generation,  to  guide,  and 
comfort,  and  bless  those  who  are  to  come 
after  him,  until  the  trump  of  God  shall  sum- 
mon to  the  bar  of  final  Judgment  both  the 

quick  and  the  dead.     Let  the  record  stand  : 

i. 

He  was  a  Good  Man. 

He  is  eone.  He  cannot  come  to  us,  but 
we  may,  by  God's  mercy,  go  to  him.  Dear 
friends,  God  grant  that  we  may  so  live  in 
this  world  that  we  may  meet  him  in  that 
better  Land  where  parting  shall  be  no  more. 

God  grant  it. 

19 


MEMOIR. 


Walter  Waightstill  Lenoir  died  at  his 
home,  at  Stonewall,  Watauga  Co.,  N.  C,  on 
the  evening  of  July  26,  1890.  He  was  born 
at  Fort  Defiance,  Caldwell  Co.,  N.  C,  March 
13,  1823.  He  was  the  son  of  Thomas  and 
Selina  Louisa  Lenoir,  and  the  grandson  of 
General  William  Lenoir  of  Revolutionary 
memory,  and  of  Colonel  Waightstill  Avery,  a 
true  patriot,  and  one  of  the  signers  of  the 
Mecklenburg  Declaration  of  Independence. 

In  1843  he  graduated  with  high  honors 
at  the  University  of  North  Carolina.  There 
were  but  two  others  of  a  large  class  that  took 
first  distinction  ;  and  it  being  necessary  to 
draw  for  the  Valedictory,  the  prize  fell  to 
him.  He  studied  Law,  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  in  1845,  and  came  easily  to  the  front 
rank  of  his  profession.     He  was  especially 


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Memoir, 

regarded  by  his  legal  brethren  as  one  of  the 
best  judges  of  Law  in  North  Carolina. 

On  the  loth  day  of  June,  1856,  he  was 
united  in  marriage  to  Miss  Cornelia  I.  Chris- 
tian, of  Staunton,  Va. — a  union  so  congenial 
that  perfect  happiness  was  vouchsafed  to 
them  until  the  death  of  their  lovely  child, 
Anna  Tate  Lenoir.  The  mother  soon  fol- 
lowed, leaving  wound-prints  in  his  heart  that 
were  never  healed  ;  but  being  of  noble  mould 
he  was  soon  convinced  that  usefulness  lay 
not  in  a  selfish  indulgence  of  sorrow,  but  in 
the  path  of  duty.  That  path  was  soon  made 
plain  to  him.  The  Civil  War  came,  and  he 
quickly  decided  how  he  could  best  serve  his 
country.  He  declared  his  firm  belief  in  the 
justice  and  sacredness  of  her  cause,  and  said 
that  he  was  ready  cheerfully  to  sacrifice  in  its 
defence,  whatever  it  might  need,  of  his  means, 
his  strength,  his  time,  and  his  capacity  of  en- 
durance. In  December,  i86|,  he  entered 
the  Confederate  Army  as  a  Private.  In  Jan- 
uary, i86Jvhe  was  promoted  to  the  Captain- 
cy of  a  Company  that  had  been  in  active  ser- 

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Memoir. 

vice.     It  was  with  serious  mismvinofs  that  he 
accepted  the  office  ;  but  he  proved  himself  a 
wise  and  efficient  leader,  gladly  sharing  the 
hardships  of  his  men,  and  endearing  himself 
to  them   by  many  acts  of  unselfish  kindness. 
Their  love  for  him   amounted   to    devotion. 
He  was  wounded  at  the  battle  of  Ox  Hill, 
September  i,  \Z6%.    His  brave  company,  ot 
which  one-third  only  was  left  after  the  sec- 
ond battle  of  Manassas  Plains,  was  exposed 
to  a  terrific  fire,  and  all  but  three  were  either 
killed  or  wounded.     His  account  of  himself 
in  this  hotly  contested  action  is  most  charac- 
teristic.     He  says  in  his  Diary,  *'  In  the  twi- 
light, toward  the   close   of  the  battle,   I  had 
thrown  myself  on  the  ground  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion, and  was  talking  to  Captain  Morris, 
who  was  in  the  same  attitude.     I  turned  my 
face  from  him  to   speak  to  my  men,  when  I 
felt  an  excruciating  pain  in  my  leg.'     I  said 
to  him  in  my  natural  voice,  '  Captain  Morris, 
my  leg  is   broken  by  a  musket-ball.'     Very 
soon  after  I  felt  another  blow  upon  the  same 
leg,  and  I  said  to  him  again  in  the  same  tone, 


Memoir. 

^  I  am  wounded  aofain  in  the  same  lee.'  Af- 
ter  finishing  the  conversation — commenced 
before  I  received  the  second  wound,  which 
shattered  both  bones  of  my  leg — he  was 
summoned  away,  and  I  dragged  myself  about 
ten  steps  or  more  to  a  place  a  little  more  ele- 
vated than  the  fence  at  which  we  had  been 
fiehtinor,  thinkinof  there  would  be  a  better 
chance  of  my  being  found.  While  there,  I 
had  sand  thrown  over  my  face  various  times 
by  musket-balls  which  struck  the  ground 
near  my  head,  while  the  shells  from  the  ene- 
my's battery  which  was  enfilading  our  line 
passed  in  fearful  proximity  to  my  body.  I 
felt  a  wonderful  deo-ree  of  calmness  and  res- 
ignation  to  my  fate  in  this  alarming  situation. 
I  thought  that  if  the  wounds  I  had  already 
received  did  not  prove  fatal,  it  was  very  prob- 
able that  I  would  be  struck  again  and  killed 
— but  I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  hands  of  a  mer- 
ciful God  and  He  would  do  with  me  what 
was  right.  In  a  few  hours  one  of  my  men 
found  me,  and  with  the  assistance  of  three 

others  bore  me  off  on  my  blanket,  stretched 

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Memoir. 

between  two  fence-rails,  to  a  house  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  distant,  and  laid  me  on  a 
narrow  porch  which  was  so  crowded  with 
the  wounded  that  there  was  only  room  for 
me  at  the  entry,  and  my  wounded  leg  was 
often  struck  by  passers-by,  to  my  great  tor- 
ture. Next  morning  I  was  carried  on  my 
stretcher  for  nearly  a  mile,  and  laid  on  the 
ground  in  an  old  field,  with  other  wounded, 
to  aw^ait  surgical  aid  which  could  not  be 
obtained  until  September  3d,  when,  to  my 
great  relief,  a  surgeon  amputated  my  leg." 
In  another  part  of  his  Diary  he  says  :  "■  The 
life  of  a  soldier  is  calculated  in  many  respects 
to  have  a  hardening  influence  on  the  heart, 
but  somehow  it  seemed  to  soften  mine. 
When  in  that  hard  campaign,  I  saw  the  suf- 
ferings of  my  men,  and  thousands  of  others 
— their  weary  gait,  their  bare  and  bleeding 
feet,  and  their  heroic  patience,  my  heart 
was  touched  to  the  core,  and  I  often  found 
the  tears  unconsciously  coursing  down  my 
cheeks.     .     . 

''  At  the  battle  of  Cedar  Run  I  was  con- 

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Memoir. 

stantly  with  my  men,  encouraging  them,  and 
assisting  them,  and  others  whom  I  knew,  to 
load,  etc.  They  were  so  worn  out  by  the 
march  and  the  fight,  that,  although  much  ex- 
hausted myself,  I  had  to  assist  two  of  my 
men  in  the  last  charge  through  the  corn- 
field, by  having  them  to  lean  on  my  shoulder 
for  awhile."  Other  extracts  from  his  Diary 
might  be  given  which  show  not  only  his  un- 
swerving devotion  to  duty,  but  his  exceed- 
ing gentleness  of  nature.  After  the  close 
of  the  War,  he  turned  to  peaceful  and  more 
congenial  pursuits.  He  lived  for  several 
years  in  Haywood  County.  From  that 
place  his  duty  called  him  to  Watauga  Coun- 
ty, v/here  he  lived  until  his  death.  Under 
the  very  shadow  of  the  Grandfather  Moun- 
tain he  loved  to  abide,  and  among  the  noble- 
hearted  people  of  that  mountain  section  he 
was  best  known  and  appreciated.  In  1883 
he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  State  Legis- 
lature from  Watauga  County,  and  his  grate- 
ful constituents  would  have  continued  thus 

to  honor  him,   but  for  his   absolute   refusal 

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Memoir. 

longer  to  continue  in  public  office.  He  pre- 
ferred a  quiet,  unobtrusive  life  among-  his 
own  people,  where  his  large-hearted  bene- 
ficence could  find  ample  scope.  No  man, 
perhaps,  has  ever  done  so  much  for  the  peo- 
ple of  Watauga  as  Walter  Waightstill  Le- 
noir. He  was  to  them  at  all  times  a  wise 
counsellor,  a  true  friend,  an  unfailing  helper. 
His  place  cannot  soon  be  filled.  A  gener- 
ous, sympathetic  Christian  life — who  can  tell 
its  influence  ? 

"•  Say  not  his  work  is  done, 
No  deed  of  love  and  goodness  ever  dies, 
But  in  the  lives  of  others  multiplies  ; 
Say,  It  is  just  begun." 
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